The Child of the King
by RoXySuRfEr12
Summary: Aragorn always loved Arwen, but one night Eowyn came into his heart, shortly to leave thereafter. Fifteen years later when Aragorn’s family faces a tragic end, Eowyn & Aragorn’s secret must be revealed…a daughter. (More to it, I promise!)
1. Mistaken Love

Hello! This is my first LOTR fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy it! I am going to try and stick to the books as much as possible, and thanks to a few wonderful LOTR sites I have the correct dates that everything happened memorized. (Kinda sad, I know! Haha!) This first chapter is pretty much like a prologue to the rest of the story explaining what exactly happened between Aragorn & Eowyn :-D ..I did always want them to be together! But anyways, the entire rest of the story focuses on fifteen years after the Battle of Pelennor Fields. Well, I hope you like my story, and please leave me a review about the chapter -- whether you loved it, or hated it, but if you hate it, I'd appreciate it if you told me ways to improve. :) Thanks, and enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **No, I don't own Lord of the Rings..Wow..if you thought I did, more power to you! JRR Tolkien --my hero-- owns the books, and I guess New Line owns the movies? Well the point is, is that all I own are the extended editions of FOTR & TT and have taken the ROTK dvd hostage from my friend. And I have a burned CD of ROTK soundtrack and the piano book haha. I'm moving up in the world!

**Chapter 1**

March 15, 3019

Eowyn recuperated as she lay on her soft, feathered bed in her small room made of stone in the Houses of Healing. A large window in her quarters overlooked the gardens of the Houses of Healing where she planned to take a stroll in when she had fully recovered. Aragorn, the man who Eowyn believed to be her true love, had healed her successfully earlier that night, but her body still ached slightly. She ran her fingers through her wispy, blonde hair and turned onto her side to get a full view of the arched window on the wall.

It was extremely late, and the moonlight shone brilliantly through the window, casting a pale light on Eowyn's fair skin. Eowyn breathed in deeply the scent of an assortment of plants that were growing in the garden. She loved how at peace everything seemed at the moment compared to how it was earlier that day in which the Battle of Pelennor Fields had been fought. Remembering how her beloved uncle, King Theoden, had been killed by the Lord of the Nazgul, tears flowed freely down her white cheeks. However, she knew that Theoden had died honorably in battle, and that she had killed the dreaded Lord of the Nazgul, and ended all of its treachery and evilness that the Lord had shown for so long.

The shadow of a tall man standing in the doorway was cast along the stone wall beside the window, and Eowyn knew that the shadow belonged to the man that had stolen her heart; Aragorn. She lightly rolled onto her other side in her bed so that she could see him, and not just his shadow. Resting her back against the silver headboard of the bed, she was able to sit up without being in any pain. The leaves of athelas that Aragorn had brought her earlier had definitely left her feeling much better, and she almost felt as if she had fully recovered.

Aragorn saw the tears running freely down Eowyn's cheeks, and he sat beside Eowyn on the bed, and looked deeply into her eyes to comfort her. He ran his callused finger down her face, wiping away one tear that glided down slowly. Eowyn seemed to get lost in Aragorn's gray, mesmerizing eyes, and it helped her to forget, for just a brief moment, of her uncle's death.

"You did well in battle," Aragorn said, with a small smile passing his lips.

She smiled, and even let out a slight laugh, but it was only for a second. Eowyn was again haunted by the day's events, and tears poured harder out of her dreary eyes. She buried her face in Aragorn's chest hoping to receive comfort. Aragorn put his arms around Eowyn, and ran his hands up and down her back soothingly. After a few minutes of weeping, Eowyn pulled back from him, and found comfort in just gazing into his eyes.

"Oh, Aragorn," she whispered as she closed her eyes, and leaned her lips in towards his.

Aragorn would've objected, but Eowyn's simple beauty and depressed feelings had lured him in. Their lips joined together, and they kissed passionately. Finally, Eowyn was sharing her feelings with the man she had loved for so long. All of Aragorn's thoughts of the day had left him as Eowyn calmly pulled off Aragorn's cloak. All of his thoughts on Arwen, and everything else that had happened in his entire life left him as Eowyn embraced him and stroked his dark, wavy hair with her tiny, weak hand. It was almost as if the young beauty had put him under a spell, but what was really going on was simply unexpected and long awaited love.

"I love you…" Eowyn whispered in his ear as they lay entangled on the comfortable bed after a few minutes of pleasure. Aragorn was about to respond back with the same statement, but something else overcame him, and it was not the realization that he loved Eowyn; it was the realization that he was still in love with Arwen, and that he had just made a huge mistake due to living in the moment, and not remembering the past or thinking of his future.

"There is no word of this. To anyone," Aragorn said shortly and rose from the bed, pulling on his clothes that were scattered across the floor of Eowyn's healing room.

"What?" Eowyn asked, almost in disbelief. "Do you not realize what has just happened?" she argued, her smile fading from her pretty face.

"That is exactly it—I have just realized what _has_ happened. And now it is too late, and we can never take it back," he said, as calmly as he could, though inside, he was panicking. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest as he wrapped his belt round his middle, feeling the handle of his sword with his strong hand.

"Why ever would we want to?" she pleaded, covering herself with the bed sheet while standing up. Aragorn stared at Eowyn, pleading before him with her saddest eyes, tears almost filling his eyes as well. Maybe he did love Eowyn…But he couldn't! Arwen and he had a long, loving relationship that would last forever. He could not leave that behind him for Eowyn. Or could he? These questions flooded Aragorn's mind as the two stood there silently, staring at each other, both sad, and both confused.

"I've made a terrible mistake, Eowyn. I…I apologize with all my heart," he said and walked out of the door, never to be looked at the same by Eowyn ever again.

Eowyn lay back down in her feathered bed. She sank deep into her the soft feathered mattress, wallowing in despair, hurt by the man she had loved. Just a half an hour before, she only had been depressed about her uncle having died in battle, but now, after Aragorn's visit, she knew that her heart would never be mended…unless…

Eowyn had a thought…She knew that if Aragorn loved another, then she would have to find another too. Hopefully, he would come along soon, before she could change her mind.

And met another she did. On March 20, 3019, Eowyn met Faramir at the Houses of Healing. After witnessing the downfall of Sauron from Minas Tirith since they were too weak to join their fellow people in battle, Faramir and Eowyn fell in love, and eventually became married in 3020. Eowyn began to block Aragorn's memory in her mind as she fell deeper in love with Faramir. It wasn't until fifteen years later that she and Aragorn had to regretfully face their past when the unthinkable happened.


	2. Cilcyn

Wow, thank you guys for the reviews! Withered Black Rose, yeah it does sort of seem like a history book, doesn't it? haha I just love how Tolkien created such a detailed world, and I love how he had specific dates so I guess I felt that I should include them. Voldie on Varisty Track, I left you an email!

**Disclaimer: **Nope…(checks watch)…I still don't own Lord of the Rings. But I do own Cilcyn, Eafea, Freosefa,and my plot.

I'm sure all of you guys know that Tolkien based names of his characters on Old English. Well, I found a really nifty website that shows the Old English words for English words, so that's how I created Cilcyn, Eafea, and Freosefa's names. I'll tell you what their names mean in the chapters to come! Oooohh cliffhanger…haha no not really…Anyway, read, enjoy, and review! :)

**Chapter 2**

"Lord of the Nazgul! You wretched menace! Back I say! Back!" Cilcyn yelled as she thrust her sword out in front of her.

"You can't defeat the Witch King!" Elboron yelled back, trying his best to appear to look terrifying by bearing his teeth, but he ended up bursting into a fit of giggles instead. After recovering from his laughter, Elboron swung his wooden sword up towards Cilcyn, but she easily blocked his attack with a swift move of her sword.

"Ahhh! Your blade has weakened me!" Cilcyn cried dramatically, and fell to the ground.

"Oh, Cilcyn, I'm sorry!" Elboron said apologetically, and knelt down towards his sister who was laying on the stone cold floor in agony.

"A-ha!" she said with a smile when Elboron bent over her in worry. Cilcyn took her wooden sword and pushed it through the space between his arm and side, appearing to look as if she had stuck her sword through his body.

Elboron frowned, realizing that he had lost due to Cilcyn's tricks once again, but tried to dramatically die anyway.

"I'm weakening…as…the seconds pass…" Elboron whispered, and fell to the ground of the great hall, attempting to look dead on the floor.

"That isn't fair!" shouted Eafea from behind a large, stone pillar. He stalked out from behind it, and threw his wooden sword to the ground in anger. "I'm the hobbit! I was supposed to kill the Witch King! Mother didn't kill it!"

"Sorry, Eafea," Cilcyn said exasperatedly while lending a hand to pick up Elboron from the ground. "Mother and Merry did kill it together, though."

"You can kill me again if you'd like, Eafea," said Elboron, smiling down at his little brother of six years. Eafea nodded in agreement, and picked up his sword from the ground. Elboron stood up, once again attempting to look evil, though it was difficult for an eleven-year old child to look terrifying. He screamed loudly and menacingly as Eafea charged towards him from across the hall, the large windows pouring sunlight onto the three children who were enjoying themselves on a summer day. Eafea's little feet pounded against the stone, and his blonde curls bounced on top of his head as he sprinted towards Elboron. The wooden sword of Eafea was about to strike between Elboron's arm and side when their father's voice was heard.

"Eafea!" Faramir yelled, and ran out into the middle of the large, stone hall, picking up Eafea in his arms as the little boy tried to run away.

"It just looked as if you were going to kill your brother, Eafea," Faramir said seriously, though he winked at Cilcyn who leaned against a stone pillar.

"We was just playing Witch King!" Eafea cried as Faramir set him back down on the ground. Eafea swashed his wooden sword through the air, appearing to strike at an invisible enemy.

"Witch King?" Farmair asked amusedly, his eyes locked on Elboron.

"Yes sir," said Elboron, smiling brightly, "Mother told us the story yesterday for the thousandth time, and Cilcyn said that we should play!"

Cilcyn darted her intense gray eyes to Elboron, wishing that he hadn't said that it was her idea. After all, she was going to be turning fifteen in a matter of weeks, and it was not accustomed for young women of that age to still be playing silly games. She fiddled with the silky fabric of her sky blue gown somewhat nervously, hoping that her father wouldn't be upset at all. Her father, Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, looked towards her and focused his light gray eyes on his daughter.

Faramir was a wonderful father, and always spent tons of time with his three children: Cilcyn, the eldest and only girl who loved the outdoors, Elboron, the middle child who had a heart for adventure, and Eafea, the littlest son with a love of childish games because he was still only six.

Faramir turned to Cilcyn, and walked towards her slowly with his hands behind his back, Eafea and Elboron following Faramir close behind, mimicking him by putting their hands behind their backs.

"Cilcyn! My dear Cilcyn! This was your idea?" he asked skeptically, though there was a twinkle in his eye. "You must know that at almost fifteen, it would be preposterous to play such a game!"

"Oh, Father, I am ever so sorry!" Cilcyn cried playfully, realizing he was not upset in any sense that she was still playing a child's game.

"Because of your actions…I will…have to…" Faramir began grievingly, "Torture the little ones!" he shouted quickly and turned around abruptly, and knelt down to the floor, grabbing Eafea and Elboron in his arms, and playfully tickling them.

Eowyn had heard laughter and shouts from the great hall and a smile passed her lips. The laughter of her children always put her in high spirits. She lifted up her long, white gown so that she could run quicker to the hall. Eowyn came through the large, wooden door that was the entrance to the hall, and Faramir looked up from playing with his sons, seeing Eowyn in the doorway.

Her beauty always took Faramir's breath away whenever he saw her, even after fifteen years. Faramir brushed his wavy, blonde hair out of his face so that he could lay his eyes on Eowyn. Elboron and Eafea jumped out of Faramir's arms and began to swordfight with their wooden swords, laughing and smiling as if it was the happiest day of their life. Cilcyn was still leaning against a wide pillar, watching her two fair-haired brothers pretend as if they were in battle. She saw her mother enter the hall, and her father admire her as they met in the middle of the hall and kissed shortly. Cilcyn hurried over to her parents with a smile on her face.

"And here's the one," Faramir said while putting his arm around Cilcyn, "The one that had to indulge herself in the mock battle of Pelennor Fields."

"Guess who I was, Mother!" Cilcyn urged sweetly.

"Who?" Eowyn laughed as she turned to Cilcyn.

"The fierce warrior Dernhelm! Disguised as a man, she rode into battle and defeated the Witch King!" Eowyn yelled as she raised her sword of wood into the air in victory.

"I guess my stories have an impact on my children, then," Eowyn said as she looked from Elboron and Eafea still fighting before them, then back to Cilcyn who handed her sword to Faramir, urging him to go and play with her brothers.

Eowny's smile faded as her gray eyes locked on Cilcyn. Whenever Eowyn took a hard look at Cilcyn, or even a passing glance, she saw traits of her first love. No one besides Eowyn and Aragorn knew that Cilcyn was actually theirs; not even Cilcyn. Everyone knew, however, that Cilcyn did not share much of a resemblance to her brothers who were fair-haired and pale skinned. Cilcyn had a tanner look about her, almost as if she was naturally darker-skinned. As she was growing up, Cilcyn often thought that her darker skin was due to being in the sun too much, and she had vowed to stay inside their large house in the Emyn Arnen, a series of hills across the Anduin River from Minas Tirith, so that she would become paler. However, her plan to stay inside never succeeded since she loved being outdoors, and riding her horse, Freosefa, across the Emyn Arnen.

Cilcyn despised her dark, wavy hair, and her tan skin, but what she hated the most were her bluish-gray eyes that resembled the color of the Anduin River. Anyone who had ever laid eyes on Cilcyn, however, thought that her eyes were captivating and gorgeous. Everyone thought that she was extremely beautiful, but to Cilcyn, she thought she was the ugly one in her family. Just because she had a different beauty about her she thought she was unattractive. She did resemble her mother partly, with her skinny frame and pretty face, but Cilcyn always noticed that there was something missing from herself. She never knew that it was that Faramir was not actually her father.

Faramir bent down and beckoned his two sons over towards him. They ran playfully over towards their loving father and jumped into his arms. He noticed that Elboron was growing taller every day, but his chin-length, wavy, blonde hair outlined his still-boyish face, leaving him with a forever young look about him. Eafea was growing quickly as well, but was still extremely young. Faramir looked behind his shoulder to Cilcyn and Eowyn who began to walk out of the great hall and he thought of how beautiful a woman that Cilcyn was becoming. Smiling, he turned back to Eafea and Elboron, and jabbed Cilcyn's wooden sword out in front him, challenging his sons to a fight.

Out of all of the things in the world, Faramir enjoyed spending time with his children the most. He got such a joy of indulging himself in a swordfight with his children, and often was reminded of how his childhood was not as enjoyable as theirs. Faramir's father, Denethor II, favored Faramir's brother, Boromir over him. It hurt Faramir deep inside, and wished that his father had given both him and Boromir the same amount of care and affection. As if to make up for his father's mistakes, Faramir spoiled his own children, always trying his hardest to give each of them the same amount of attention, and love each of them equally. Because of Faramir's active role in his three children's lives, they all loved him with all their hearts and Elboron, as he approached manhood, hoped that he could become at least half the man that Faramir had become.

Eowyn put her arm around Cilcyn and guided her to the wooden door of the large, stone hall that led onto a large wooden balcony overlooking the Emyn Arnen. Cilcyn and Eowyn leaned up against the railing that was made of the finest wood and encircled the huge balcony, their eyes gazing out over the Anduin River to Minas Tirith. Cilcyn wished that one day she could travel to Minas Tirith, as she was old enough to go those many miles. However, whenever Cilcyn had brought up traveling Minas Tirith in the past to her mother, she simply said that it was not allowed. Faramir never seemed to object, but Eowyn always had. Looking at the gigantic and gorgeous city of Minas Tirith was heart wrenching for both Eowyn and Cilcyn. Eowyn wished that she could forget all of Aragorn, but never had those thoughts been completely erased.

Cilcyn wished as they stood on the balcony, watching the city in the distance, that she could one day go to Minas Tirith just to experience its beauty and glory. Little did Cilcyn know that fate would have her journeying to Minas Tirith soon enough.


	3. Murders in the King's House

Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews! :-D This is a really long chapter..well in my point of view haha. I was going to make it into two chapters, but I decided to tortue you! :) haha! Please continue to review about things you liked/didn't like about the story. Thanks!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings--just thought I'd say it once more for fun. But, guess what? I do own Cilcyn, Eafea, Freosefa, Felan, Bilengel, Gilphnis, and Bysmor..and the plot. :)

Woot! I love names in Old English! Did anyone guess what Eafea's name means? (Waits to hear the answer come out of the speakers then realizes she has no life and eats string cheese) Okay..guess not! Well, it means _little son-- _since he is the littlest son out of the family. Yeah..ok it is kind of dumb. And Freosefa means _free spirit_. Isn't that pretty? Go names! Find out what all those other names mean next time..on Child of the King! haha I am such a loser!!

Read & review!

**Chapter 3 **

Aragorn rode across the Citadel on Roheryn, the rough-haired horse that Arwen had given him many years ago. Roheryn's hooves were pounding against the stone as Aragorn rode past the White Tree, blooming in all its glory, that stood before the Tower of Ecthelion. Aragorn hadn't been able to fall asleep as he lay tossing and turning in his bed as the moonlight poured onto his sleeping wife, so he decided to ride Roheryn out of Minas Tirith and through Pelennor Fields as a way to calm himself. He had been feeling overwhelmed with himself lately, but he was not entirely sure why. There was complete and utter peace in Gondor, however, something had been sinking his heart lately, so King Elessar took off on his horse that morning to ease himself. He never went riding for pleasure that often, so he was left with a feeling of serenity as he dismounted Roheryn in front of the King's House, where he, Arwen, and all of his children lived.

Entering the beautifully decorated entrance hall in the King's House, Aragorn immediately sensed that something was utterly wrong. The early morning sun was pouring in through the windows onto the long, wooden table on the opposite side of the hall, however, his family was not sitting down enjoying a lovely breakfast and awaiting his arrival. It must have been nearly seven o'clock, so Aragorn thought that maybe his family had overslept, which was all too common during the long, summer days.

He walked down to the end of the hall, glancing around for any sign of his children hiding behind the large, stone pillars, prepared to jump out and startle him. When a surprise attack did not come, he made his way towards the right end of the hall, preparing to awaken his children for a new day. However, he thought he should wake up his lady first, so he drifted towards the left end of the hall where a wide, yet short, corridor was revealed behind a pillar. Dimming candles decorated the stone walls as Aragorn walked down the corridor, finally reaching his destination of the wooden door leading to his bedroom.

He placed his callused fingers on the silver handle of the door and pushed it lightly so that the door would open quietly and slowly as to not awake Arwen's slumber. Aragorn slipped in through the door and into the large, darkened bedroom. He saw just the outline of his bed that was in a nook in the left wall due to the small amount of light seeping in through the thick curtains.

Arwen was as still as the air as Aragorn lay down beside her on the bed, the darkness allowing him to only see the outline of her perfect body that lay motionless beneath the thin sheet. He gazed at her in the darkness for a few moments, not able to see her clearly, but since he had seen her everyday for what seemed like eternity, Aragorn could see in his mind the gorgeousness of Arwen even in the shadows. He let out a relieving sigh and a smile passed his lips since he was just so happy to be lying beside his queen. He didn't want to wake her since she seemed so lovely even as she slept.

Aragorn stroked Arwen's dark hair with his hand, its softness feeling almost odd on his rough fingers. He brought his finger to her pale cheek that he could somewhat make out in the darkness. But, he did not feel the warmth of her face as he traced his finger along her cheek. Immediately, he drew himself back from her, and darted over to the window, and tore back the thick curtains that had allowed barely any light to pass through. He spun around, and nearly choked on his heart as it leapt up from his chest when his eyes locked on Arwen.

Aragorn stumbled back over to his bed, nearly collapsing as he knelt beside Arwen. She was lying motionless, a gash so deep in her chest that the blood had soaked the entire sheet that was covering her body. Aragorn's breathing was staggered as he took her hand, as cold as ice, and pressed his lips to her white skin. A single tear left his eye and traveled down his cheek, and landed on her lifeless hand. He looked up to her face, and saw her eyes closed, as if she had been at peace when she had been murdered.

No words could describe the pain he felt in his heart and in his soul. The tears that emptied from his eyes explained everything, and he needed no words to describe the pain he felt. Aragorn brushed the hair from her face as he put both of his hands on her cheeks. His tears traced down his face and dripped onto hers. He wept for many moments, not even realizing that her blood was spreading over his clothes. He could not understand how the one he loved had been so brutally murdered, and his silent cries began to become louder, until soon he let out an ear-piercing scream that echoed through every corridor in the King's House.

Getting up from his knees, he stared down at his murdered queen, grasping her icy hand in his. Suddenly, the thought of why his children hadn't appeared in the hall as well passed through his mind, and feeling helpless, he looked towards the door and back towards Arwen. He did not want to leave her side even though he knew that death had taken her, but he knew that his children could still be in danger.

He dashed out of his quarters and down the same stone corridor, and out into the empty and silent hall, Arwen's blood on his clothes and on his hands. He darted down the corridor that was opposite the one he had just come from, where two doors mirrored one other along both sides of the walls. He burst the first door on his left open, which was the door to the quarters of his only son, Eldarion. The curtain was drawn in Eldarion's quarters, and Aragorn wished that it hadn't been. The early morning light shone onto Eldarion, who was lying on the stone-cold floor in a pool of his own blood. Eldarion had been stabbed in his heart, in the same place that Arwen had been attacked.

Aragorn stood in the doorway in horror, nearly passing out from the insanity. He ran to Eldarion and scooped him up in his arms, tears flowing freely from his eyes, having trouble believing what had just happened. He stroked Eldarion's hair, and brought his face to his chest in agony. He couldn't tear himself away from his child, but he needed to see if his three daughters were all right.

Aragorn stumbled out of Eldarion's quarters, the blood of both his son and wife blending in with his tears. The door next to Eldarion's quarters led to his eldest daughter's room. It was closed shut, but Aragorn thrust the door open with a faint hope that maybe his daughter, Felan, had not been murdered. The curtains were closed as he entered the room, so Aragorn prayed maybe Felan was still sleeping. However, as he drew the curtains and turned around to face the bed, he saw a scene exactly like what he had seen in his own bedroom.

Felan was drenched in blood that seeped through the sheets from her wounded chest. Aragorn ran to her side, nearly fainting from the gruesome sight. His beloved daughter; his sweet child of only thirteen years, was dead. He backed up to the door, trying to get rid of the terrible image in his mind. He shook his head in disbelief while his insides churned and emotions whirled through his mind.

"No…" Aragorn whispered, "NO!" he screamed louder and fell backwards, the stone wall catching his fall. He leaned against the wall and shut his eyes tightly, hoping that if he couldn't see his loved ones murdered, then it had never happened. He used all of his strength to walk across the corridor to the closed door that led to his youngest daughters' quarters.

He opened the door slowly, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. He stumbled over to the curtains and drew them back, preparing to see the worst as he spun around. Immediately he sunk down to the floor in agony, nearly ripping out his hair as his cries echoed throughout the King's House.

Bilengel, Aragorn's six year old daughter, had fallen out of her blood-stained bed and onto the stone floor, while his ten year old daughter, Gilphnis, looked much like Arwen in which she was still in her bed covered in dried blood. Aragorn honestly didn't know what to do. He had experienced the death of ones he had cared for before, but never had he expected to see his children or his wife murdered, especially in his own home. Completely at a loss for words and actions, he sat there, completely dumbfounded, his sight clouded with dreaded tears. His head dropped between his knees, and he ran his hands through his hair while the images of all of his children and of his wife ran through his mind.

Elboron, his strong-willed and kind son, who, at only fourteen, was already showing promise for when he would have taken the throne, was lying on the ground of his quarters with a gigantic gash through his heart. Aragorn too felt as though someone had stabbed him in the heart as he thought of Elboron, Arwen and his three daughters; Felan, Bilengel, and Gilphnis. His daughters all carried the presence and beauty of their mother, but were all determined and proud like their father. Aragorn could not believe that his three little angels were dead.

Had he not left that morning on his ride, his four beautiful children would not be killed and neither would Arwen. Aragorn cursed himself as he wept and wished with all of his heart that his children were all alive, and that Arwen was beside him.

**oooooo**

"King Elessar," said Bysmor, trying to help Aragorn come out of his daze. "King Elessar," he said loudly, and Aragorn immediately looked up from the ground. He had been thinking of the morning's events, leaving him with a heavy heart and clouded eyes, and had not noticed Bysmor enter the grand hall in the Tower of Ecthelion.

"Yes, Bysmor," Aragorn replied while clearing his throat.

"I have come to express my condolences, King Elessar," said Bysmor, Aragorn's closest friend in Minas Tirith, and somewhat of an advisor to him. The two were alone in the empty hall; Aragorn sitting on his throne sulking, and Bysmor standing before him.

It was nearing nighttime and the people of Minas Tirith had not yet been informed of the tragedy that happened that morning. The only people that knew of the devastation that had happened that morning were Bysmor, and the ones who carried out the bodies to prepare them for the funeral. Aragorn knew that he must inform his people, but he worried that he would not be able to speak of the tragedy without breaking down in tears. He knew that his people would be in mourning if word spread through the city that Queen Arwen and his four children were brutally murdered by an unknown enemy. Some would be frightened that war would develop, but others would just be extremely saddened by the occurrence.

Aragorn had not spoken to a single soul ever since Bysmor had found him weeping beside Arwen's body several hours before. Aragorn was too torn apart inside to figure out who had killed his loved ones, so he went into the Tower of Ecthelion to be completely alone and not be bothered by anyone or anything.

"I understand that you do not wish to be bothered," Bysmor started, and Aragorn nodded slightly, "And I do apologize for coming to you in your time of grief, and I realize that you would appreciate for me to leave and for you to be left alone. However, the events that happened this morning could be seen as an act of war and I believe—"

"These events happen to be the unfortunate murders of my family! No country would attack Minas Tirith through the killings of my wife and children!" Aragorn shouted, completely outraged.

"Could it be then that it was an attack from the inside?" Bysmor asked quietly after a stretched silence, hoping not to anger Aragorn even more.

"I have no enemies," Aragorn said coldly.

"It may seem as though you have none," Bysmor began, "but the circumstances prove that—"

"Prove what?" Aragorn asked angrily, "That I am disliked by my own people? That the line of my family shall be destroyed to prevent my predecessors from ruling?"

"I am afraid that it is entirely that, King Elessar. Now that Eldarion has been…has passed on…you have no heir to the throne."

Aragorn stared silently at Bysmor for several minutes, realizing that his friend's point could be the answer for the murder of his family; to stop Eldarion from taking the throne in the years to come.

"The Steward of Gondor shall take the title of ruling Gondor after your death, I assume," Bysmor said truthfully, "That is unless you wed again."

Aragorn looked at Bysmor mysteriously. Why was Bysmor pressing the matter of heirs so soon after such a terrible event? Bysmor, though he was a faithful friend for those many years that they had know each other, was being preposterous. Aragorn had just lost his wife and children, and Bysmor was already speaking of finding another queen! How Aragorn wanted to be left alone, and not bothered by Bysmor's annoying truths.

"Why would I wed after such cataclysm has been instilled upon my family?" Aragorn questioned sharply.

"Because you _need_ a heir to the throne, King Elessar," Bysmor said urgently, "Unless you have an unknown child that resides in Middle Earth, you are to be in great peril in the years to come if you would like to continue your line of rulers."

"An unknown child…" Aragorn whispered quietly to himself, pondering what Bysmor had just said.

"Excuse me, King Elessar?" Bysmor asked, confused to as what Aragorn had said so quietly.

"I do not wish to be spoken with at this time," Aragorn said shortly.

"Before I leave you to be alone, my friend, I would like to remind you to be on your utmost alert and attentiveness. We shall increase the guards around Minas Tirith, but if the enemy is indeed someone from the city, then you still may be in danger of death."

"Then bring death onto me, Bysmor, for I would rather be dead than living through _this_," Aragorn said with the harshest manner that Bysmor had ever heard.

Bysmor stared into the chilling eyes of Aragorn. They pierced through Bysmor's heart, leaving him with an understanding of the pain that the king of his land was feeling. Bysmor turned slowly around, breaking the gaze between them, and began to walk towards the large door at the opposite end of the hall. Aragorn rubbed his rough hands together in deep thought as the door to the Tower of Ecthelion closed shut.

"An unknown child…" Aragorn repeated as he remembered the day when Eowyn told him that she was going to have his child…

****


	4. Her Wish

Thanks to all who reviewed! I really appreciate it! Please continue to review the chapter if ya like it :) or even if you hate it :( Well anyways, this is a pretty gosh darn long chapter -- 5 pages woot -- and I've probably rewritten it at least four times to get it to be the best I could make it. I was just having trouble writing this chapter and that's one of the reasons I haven't updated in a week or two. Soo I would really be grateful if you would review!

**Disclaimer: **I own all those characters I've listed in my previous chapters' disclaimers and my plot! huzzah for owning things! But everything else is owned by the fabulous JRR Tolkien. Holler at him

Oh yeah! Old English name time! (applause) Okay, since I'm probably not going to include any of Aragorn's children in the later chapters..because well..you know what happened to them :( .. so I'll just say what their meanings are now. Gilphnis, Aragorn's 10 year old daughter, means _proud beauty_ because she got the pride of a ruler from her father, who is obviously a king, and the beauty of her mother. Bilengel, his six year old daughter, means _best angel_...yeah that doesn't really make much sense... I just thought angel could have a meaning of innocence, and Bilengel was Aragorn's youngest daughter and I imagined her to be an innocent, little girl. Felan, his 13 year old daughter, means _loved one_, which I thought sounded really pretty and also has a really sweet meaning because she was loved by her parents. Okay...so I'm not an Old English professor and the names aren't that great haha -- don't shoot me! haha read on!

**Chapter 4**

Cilcyn was peacefully sleeping but was woken up when something nudged her shoulder. Her sapphire eyes fluttered open and she saw her beautiful gray horse, Freosefa, staring back at her intently. She looked around the stables for a moment and took a breath in of the night air, the strong smell of straw filling her nose. She stood up slowly, trying to gain back the feeling in her legs since she had fallen asleep curled up in a corner of the stables after riding Freosefa for a few hours. Cilcyn couldn't quite understand why Freosefa had woken her up, but then she heard the sounds of a horse's hooves in the distance.

She crossed from one side of the stables to the other, climbed up onto a haystack, and peered out of a small window that overlooked her home, draped in darkness. The moon was small that night, but with the thousands of scattered stars in the sky, Cilcyn was able to see the outline of a man dismounting his horse, and waltzing into her home. Cilcyn began to panic as she glanced around the stables. All of the horses were accounted for, so obviously her father had not taken one out. Who then was the man who was riding the horse? She stared out of the window once more, but the man had vanished. His horse stood on the balcony abnormally still. Being as curious as she was, Cilcyn stroked Freosefa along her nose before hurrying across the hill to the balcony where the horse stood.

The stars glittered onto the green hills as Cilcyn ran across them to her prominent home. Cilcyn darted up the wide, wooden stairs that led to the huge balcony, trying to catch her breath from the steep climb as she reached the top. An auburn horse stood at the edge of the balcony proudly, looking as if it was gazing across to Minas Tirith. Cilcyn approached it slowly, hoping not to scare it away. As Cilcyn came closer to the horse, she saw that it's breathing was deep, as if it had just come a long way in a short period of time. It moved about its hooves in pain as Cilcyn stood next to him. She stroked the horse's nose lightly to try and calm it down before retreating back towards her house.

Even in the darkness, the huge wooden home that Cilcyn had grown up in looked magnificent and breathtaking. Of course, Cilcyn had grown used to the scene, but for someone who had just laid eyes upon the residence would be mesmerized. It was almost like an enormous wooden cabin, but with somewhat of a royal touch. Colossal columns of timber protruded from the balcony's wooden floor and connected up towards the roof. Cilcyn glided her fingers along a few of the columns as she walked towards the entrance to the hall. When reaching the door that seemed to be made for a giant as it was insanely tall and wide, Cilcyn placed her hand on the stone handle and pulled open the heavy wooden door.

Whenever Cilcyn wandered through her home late at night she always got an unsettling feeling in her stomach, and the feeling didn't change when she entered into the grand hall. The light from the stars and the moon that poured in through the windows cast an eerie sense throughout the hall. Cilcyn even shivered as if the light was indeed colder than normal because of its gloomy appeal.

Her steps echoed in the empty hall as she peered around each and every stone column, expecting each time to see that mysterious man who had left his horse on the balcony pop out at her. After inspecting every dark corner and checking under every ornately carved table but found no sign of the intruder, she began to think that she had imagined the man every existing. However, the horse on the balcony proved her wrong, and when she heard voices coming from the dining hall, she believed the man to have invaded!

She dashed towards the door leading to the dining hall and pressed her ear to the door, hoping to hear who was talking inside the dining hall and what about. Immediately, Cilcyn could recognize that there were three voices: one of her mother, one of her father, and another was a voice that she did not recognize, which was obviously the "intruder". Determined to hear what the conversation was about, Cilcyn quieted her breathing and wished that the door wasn't so thick as she pressed her ear between the small gap.

"Precisely when was this going to be brought to my attention?" said Faramir, his voice sounding angry, hurt, and hushed all at the same time.

"I couldn't just…explain it all to you Faramir. It was all too complicated…" said Eowyn in a timid voice, saying it as if she was pulling her words out of the air in a desperate attempt to explain herself.

"After fifteen years one should be able to come up with an explanation Eowyn!" Faramir shouted, outraged.

Cilcyn jumped back from the door, startled from her father's sudden explosion. What was this secret that they were speaking of, and why was Faramir so angered by Eowyn keeping it from him? Cilcyn quickly went back to the door, this time peering through the small gap in between the door and the stone wall instead of putting her ear to it. She saw her father, leaning against the wooden dining table, his face showing an expression of anger, while Eowyn stood fearfully across from him on the other end of the table. The man whom the horse belonged to was standing in between them, and Cilcyn could tell that he hadn't really intruded, but was there to alert her parents of something.

The man was standing erect, his back as straight as one of the stone columns in the grand hall, with his chest out proudly in front of him. He held a rolled up piece of parchment in his hands, and his emerald eyes kept gazing back down towards it nervously every couple seconds. Wavy, light brown hair with a hint of gray framed his pale cheeks causing his bright green eyes to stand out more amongst his features.

"The reason of my visit was not to cause trouble, but to try and prevent it. Danger can come to the one that King Elessar has informed me to bring to Minas Tirith if action is not taken immediately," said the mysterious man, known as Bysmor.

"Minas Tirith?" Cilcyn whispered to herself.

She thought that hopefully she was the one that could travel there, ignoring the fact that the man had said the person could be in danger. Cilcyn was totally naive to the dangers of the world, and her mind trailed off for a few seconds, thinking of all the splendor of Minas Tirith and how she could actually be there! Finally, after fifteen years of dreaming of leaving the Emyn Arnen, her dreams were to come true. Her mind swirled with visions of the beautiful city as she began twirling around in the middle of the gloomy hall. She didn't care how big of an idiot that she must have looked like, but she was so happy! It wasn't as if she despised living in the Emyn Arnen, but she wished for greater things, not being confined to the grassy hills. She wished to ride on Freosefa out to the places that she had listened to stories of for years. She leaned against a stone pillar and smiled happily, not listening to the continuing conversation between the three in the dining hall.

"I shall not let my daughter travel to Minas Tirith for a purpose as vague as the one that you have given us," said Eowyn angrily.

"You shall be informed at a later time of the circumstances, however at this time King Elessar wishes to keep everything confidential for his own safety, and his daughter's as well," Bysmor stated.

"_His _daughter?" Faramir shouted, "I do not believe that he has any right to claim her as his child!"

"Excuse me," Bysmor said apologetically and bowed his head in respect, "But these are only the words of the king."

"If _the king_," Eowyn began angrily, "would like to inform me why he has not wanted to keep in contact with his daughter—

"SHE IS NOT HIS DAUGHTER!" Faramir screamed fiercely.

Cilcyn heardher father's screaming words even from inside the grand hall. She scrambled back towards the door, pressed her eye up to the gap, then placed her hand on the large stone handle for balance..

"Why hasn't he exchanged any words with…_our _daughter…before?" Eowyn asked to Bysmor annoyed, with extreme emphasis on 'our'.

"I am not entirely sure, my lady," Bysmor said, as he honestly had no idea that the king even had another child.

"Perhaps when you have the answer, then we will consider sending her to see the king," Eowyn said shortly. "Bysmor, may I see the letter from Aragorn once more?" she asked.

Bysmor passed the rolled up parchment to Eowyn that was creased in the places that Bysmor had held tightly. She unrolled it, and her eyes scanned the letter quickly, though she took in the words thoroughly.

_Prince of Ithilien, Lady of Ithilien_

_Tragedy has been instilled upon my family, and I am afraid that the circumstances lead me to have my child brought to Minas Tirith immediately. I did not believe that such an event would ever occur, nor would I ever think of bringing my child, who has been raised not as my own but as yours, to Minas Tirith. Due to the importance and danger of the situation I cannot give you as much information as I would like, however, you must have the knowledge that the child will be safer under the protection of the walls of Minas Tirith._

_King Elessar_

_...Aragorn_

"I cannot make a decision based on such a vague command," Eowyn said crossly as she noticed that there was a few darker spots on the parchment that looked as if they were tear drops.

"Do you not understand that the consequence of not sending her to Minas Tirith could be death?" Bysmor argued.

'_Death?_' Cilcyn thought as she stood at the door. Had she heard Bysmor clearly?

"It is for her protection," he continued.

"She is protected here—in her home!" Faramir objected.

"Well," Eowyn said to Bysmor, "unless you do not tell us the reason of why she must travel to—"

"The reason is protection," Bysmor said, annoyed.

"That is not clear enough!" Faramir shouted and slammed his fists on the table.__

Cilcyn had placed her hand on the stone handle to keep her balance, but when Faramir had another unexpected outburst, her hand pushed in the handle, causing the door to fly open. Cilcyn fell flat on the stone cold floor, her mother, father, and Bysmor staring at her in surprise.

She quickly stood up, smoothing out the creases in her sky blue dress that matched her eyes perfectly. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she immediately regretted it, wishing that she couldn't see the somewhat horrified looking expressions shown on her parents' faces.

"I…I apolo—" Cilcyn started, but was cut off by her father.

"What are you doing in here?!" Faramir shouted, outraged.

"I…I fell asleep in the stables again," Cilcyn stammered, looking towards the floor in embarrassment. Faramir had never yelled at her before, and she was in disbelief. She even felt tears sting her eyes, but held them back as much as she could.

"Faramir," Eowyn said angrily, "She does not know either, so do not bring your anger out on her."

"She does not know?" Bysmor asked, confused.

Cilcyn felt her mind exploding with questions but her lips were shut tight as to not cause any more problems. She thought that if she just listened intently to the conversation she could pick up on what was going on.

"Perchance it would be the best idea to keep it that way then," Bysmor suggested quietly.

"I do believe only I have the authority to issue such a statement, Bysmor," snapped Faramir with a chilling glare.

"Apologies, but it might be the best decision," Bysmor said with a hostile tone. Faramir's lips twisted into a scowl as his eyes narrowed in on Bysmor who still stood with the utmost perfection.

"If you would excuse us from the hall, it would be most appreciated," Faramir said softly to Bysmor. Bysmor bowed his head and strutted towards the entrance to the grand hall. When he passed Cilcyn, his eyes locked onto her, and he smiled at her, revealing somewhat gapped teeth. She looked to him, and was somewhat alarmed at how fake his smile seemed as he passed her. Cilcyn heard the door shut loudly behind her, the sound bouncing off of the stone walls.

"Sit down," Faramir commanded, motioning towards a wooden chair at the long table. Cilcyn obeyed, her eyes never leaving the floor.

There was a silence as deafening as a thousand horses that seemed to stretch for an eternity. As the silence lingered on, Cilcyn began to study her fingers and how they were callused and had dirt underneath the fingernails, however, her mind was still burning with questions. After much delay, Faramir spoke.

"How much did you hear, Cilcyn?" he asked seriously.

Cilcyn looked up from her hands and into Faramir's eyes.

"Only the words of traveling to Minas Tirith…but…" she paused. She dearly wanted to ask of why it was so important, but she thought better of it from the intense, cold stares from her parents. "But why am I leaving at nightfall? Shouldn't I wait until morning?" she asked, though that wasn't one of the important questions she had.

"On a trip for leisure then one would wait until morning, but the reason for you to travel to Minas Tirith is for your protection, my dear," Eowyn said softly as she knelt beside Cilcyn and put her hands over hers. "It could even be dangerous, Cilcyn."

"Dangerous!" Faramir shouted, "Yet another reason for her not to leave!"

"Faramir," Eowyn pleaded and stood up, "I do not wish any more than you for her to leave! But King Elessar ordered—"

"Do _not_ speak that name in my presence ever again!" he screamed fiercely.

"He is your king, and you shall obey him," Eowyn said with a bloodcurdling tone, though she even wished that she did not have to respect the man that had broken her heart.

"He may be my king, but he is no longer my friend," he said rigorously.

"For a reason that is well in the past you deny him friendship? That is not only unwise, but careless!" Eowyn argued.

As she said those words, she thought of how hypocritical she was being. Had she not vowed to never speak to Aragorn as a friend ever since that night those many years ago? Of course, no one knew how much she disliked Aragorn since she could never have informed anyone of _why _she neglected his friendship. So, for the past fifteen years, she only spoke with Aragorn when he came to speak with Faramir at their home, which was not too often since Faramir usually traveled to Minas Tirith instead. Even when Aragorn visited, he never mentioned of meeting with his child, and Eowyn didn't particularly want Cilcyn to meet with the man that had destroyed her spirit.

"Cilcyn will not journey to Minas Tirith," Faramir stated.

"Please, Father, I wish to!" Cilcyn pleaded desperately and jumped out of her chair in objection, blocking out the fact that Bysmor had said danger could await her.

"You do not know what you wish!" Faramir screamed. Cilcyn stiffened her back in anger and fear.

"I do know what I wish! And I wish for you not to be so arrogant!" Cilcyn shouted, without really thinking of what she had just said. All of the years of being confined of living within the hills of the Emyn Arnen burst out of her in an eruption at her father, someone who she really was not angered at.

Within the blink of an eye, Faramir's hand smacked Cilcyn's cheek excruciatingly hard, leaving the entire right side of her face numb. She stood there in disbelief while Eowyn rushed towards her at once and placed her hands on Cilcyn's cheeks, as if her "mother's touch" could heal away the pain. Faramir had never laid a harmful finger on Cilcyn in all of her life, and that was what was making tears develop in her eyes, not the pain. She could bear pain, but not the pain that she felt knowing that her beloved father had just slapped her.

Faramir looked down towards his hand in atheism. Was it his hand that had just harmed his daughter? But…she wasn't his daughter…she was King Elessar's. The words in his mind stung like the deadly venom of a snake. He had hit Cilcyn because of his anger towards Eowyn and Aragorn for keeping the secret of her being their child for fifteen long years. He had not hit her for what she had said. Yes, her words had been disrespectful, but Faramir knew that given any other circumstance in which she said those words, he would have kept his hand at his side.

"I wish to leave," Cilcyn said coldly and strode out of the room into the grand hall.

Eowyn looked towards Faramir, tears stinging both of their eyes. They both did not want their daughter to leave them, but after Faramir's mistake, they knew Cilcyn would never want to come back.

"I…I'm sorry…" Faramir choked.

"Blaming Cilcyn for my mistake is _wrong_," Eowyn said, her voice merely reaching a whisper. She turned around slowly and walked out of the dining hall after Cilcyn, leaving Faramir alone and feeling dreadful.


End file.
